


xylophone notes

by thor_odinson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 06:49:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19000552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thor_odinson/pseuds/thor_odinson
Summary: Mycroft and Greg's daughter, Clarice, doesn't fall asleep without the soothing notes of a xylophone. This proves difficult for Sherlock and John who are her babysitters for the day. Luckily, Sherlock's son, Henry, is at the ready.





	xylophone notes

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted [here](https://m.fanfiction.net/s/12041177/1/Xylophone-Notes/) on my fanfiction.net account.

I woke to the blaring bleeps of my alarm clock. I extended an arm and crashed my hand down onto it, silencing the monstrosity.

I turned around again, expecting to see John just waking up, but was met with an empty side of the bed. Puzzled, I sat up with sluggish, still-half-asleep movements, calling out, 'John?'

I heard a chuckle coming from somewhere to my left and turned to see John leaning against the doorway, dressed in a burgundy jumper and (my favourite) black jeans. 'What are you dressed so early for?' I asked, rubbing my eyes in order to actually wake myself up.

'Because we're babysitting  _your_  niece, Sherlock,' he told me, a mock disappointed tone in his voice.

'But I thought that was on Saturday?'

John shook his head. 'Today  _is_ Saturday, you idiot. Get up, they'll be here in an hour.'

I groaned. 'Tell Mycroft to get another babysitter. I'm tired,' I complained, lying back down again.

'You were the one who offered to look after her,' he reminded me. 'To be honest, I'd like nothing more than to curl up in bed and watch a movie but we have priorities.'

'Priorities can go and do one.'

'Come on, Sherlock. They'll pick her up at nine o'clock this evening anyway. Then you can go to sleep again.'

I stopped, listening. 'Where's Henry?' I asked, referring to my six year old son. The flat was oddly quiet for eight o'clock on a holiday morning.

'He's watching TV and having breakfast. He's fine.' John smiled.

'He's dressed, right?'

'Sherlock, stop worrying. Henry's fine. I checked up on him five times this morning. Now move.'

I sighed. There was no swaying John once he'd made up his mind. 'Oh, alright. But you just lost your date choice privileges for the next three dates,' I told him, sitting up once again.

He laughed. 'Okay, okay. Anything to make sure you do what you're supposed to.'

'I hate you.'

'I love you too,' he smirked. 'Now get up and get dressed. I'll be in the kitchen.' He turned and walked across the hallway.

I sighed, swinging my legs off the bed. Today was going to be a hellish day.

I was very tempted to just stay in my pyjamas but I knew Mycroft would think me incapable of looking after his daughter if I was too tired to even get dressed. So I settled for my worst suit. I wasn't going to submit to Mycroft's  _every_  command.

When I got downstairs, John took one look at me from the kitchen and grinned. 'He's going to hate you, you know,' he told me.

'He doesn't control me,' I dismissed. I turned to Henry, whose eyes were fixated onto Clifford the Big Red Dog. 'Good morning, Henry.'

He turned to me, all toast and dogs forgotten and ran over to me to wrap his arms around my legs. 'G'morning, Daddy!'

I couldn't stop the smile that escaped my lips as I crouched down to his level. 'Have a good night?'

He beamed. 'Yup! I dreamed I was a space pirate! It was really very excitin'!'

I beamed. 'I  _dreamt_ I was a space pirate,' I corrected fondly.

'I  _dreamt_ I was a space pirate,' he rectified.

I ruffled his hair. 'Good boy. Hey, listen. Remember your cousin Clarice is coming over today.'

'Oh yeah. John told me,' he said as he was walking back to the sofa. He paused in his tracks and turned back. 'Hey Daddy?'

'Yes, Henry?'

'When you and John get married, will he be my papa?' I was rather taken aback by his question. Henry was rather smart for his age and he'd asked this sort of question before. So why was I freaking out?

He'd been terribly insecure when his mother and I started arguing (though I did my best to keep our disputes away from him), and had been completely thrown off his tracks when she packed her bags and left the house two years ago. He'd been very quiet for the next couple of months, only talking to me when we were alone in the flat. It had taken him seven months of knowing John before he opened up to him.

I glanced up at John briefly, who had stiffened at the mention of his name. 'He can be your papa now, if you want him to be,' I replied.

'Oh,' was the only reply I was given.

'Is that okay?' I asked nervously.

'Oh yeah, that's fine.' Then he shyly mumbled, 'I'd like it if he were my papa now.'

I grinned. Then I leant forward to whisper in his ear. 'Why don't you go tell him that, hey? I'm sure he'd love to know.'

Henry ran over to John who swept him up into a hug. When I straightened up and saw my son and my fiancé wrapped in an embrace, I couldn't help but grin broadly. John met my eye and winked and somehow my smile widened.

Suddenly I heard two sets of footsteps, one of which was  _not_  my brother (thank the lord) and promptly announced, 'Clarice is here, Henry!'

Henry clambered out of John's grasp and down the stairs. John came to stand beside me, smiling. 'You raised a great kid there, love.'

'Yes well. Thank you.' I muttered, suddenly rather cautious.

John gripped my hand, squeezing slightly. 'I love you.'

I smiled, giving him a kiss on the forehead. 'And I love you,' I replied. 'Now come on. Let's see what Henry's done with his cousin.'

Almost instantly, Henry ran back up the stairs, yelling, 'Daddy! Papa! Clarice is  _six months old_ now!'

I winced. 'Indoor voice please, Henry.'

'Sorry,' he apologised, before turning to look at Clarice again. 'Wow!  _Six months_!' he marvelled.

I grinned at Lestrade, who had set the baby seat just inside the room. 'Right,' he said. 'Her nappy's just been changed so you shouldn't need to do that for about three more hours. You'll need to feed her in about half an hour, or when she starts getting cranky, and after that, every four hours. There's enough in her bag for three more feeds and two extra sets of clothes if need be. If anything should happen, give us a call and one of us will come and pick her up. But I'm sure you'll be fine. Right, Sherlock?'

'Right, and please make sure that Mycroft doesn't come to pick her up. Last time we crossed paths, let's just say, things didn't go well.'

'He's not that ba…' Lestrade started saying, before catching my glaring eye and shutting his mouth.

'Oh, you haven't been there for the brotherly not-love,' I snickered.

'I guess I haven't,' he mused. 'I best get going. Goodbye all, goodbye Henry.'

'Bye-bye Uncle Greg!' he called, waving madly.

* * *

She wouldn't sleep. It had just gone seven and Clarice had been crying for almost an hour. I'd changed her nappy (twice) and John and I had fed her (her last feed was just over half an hour ago), she wasn't in pain (that we knew of) and we had been trying to get to sleep for the past half an hour.

I was exhausted and even Henry was getting fidgety at the noise.

'Sherlock,' John called over the yells as he cradled her. 'Text Greg and ask him what they do to get her to sleep, this is getting ridiculous.'

I reached for my phone and typed out a text.

**What the hell do you do to get your daughter to sleep?! SH**

**I play my xylophone ringtone. Helps soothe her. GL**

**Xylophone?! How did that work out? SH**

**I noticed she liked listening to my ringtone and then I played it for her when she was sleeping. GL**

**But we don't have your ringtone, genius. SH**

**Any sort of tune will do. Get Henry to play something. That'll do wonders. GL**

**Or just send it to me, rather than get my son to do your bidding. SH**

**I can't I need to dash. Good luck! GL**

I groaned as the  _ACTIVE_ under Lestrade's name changed to  _ACTIVE JUST NOW._

'Well?' John asked.

'Henry, can you come downstairs please?! I called. 'And bring your xylophone!'

'What?' John replied.

Seconds later, Henry's footsteps thundered down from his room. 'I got it!'

'Right, now, sit next to Clarice and play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Go on.'

'Sherlock,  _what_?' John asked incredulously, settling with a still bawling baby onto the floor.

'Trust me, Greg said this'll work.' I sat next to them on my heels.

And just like that, as Henry neared the end of the lullaby, Clarice's sobs quietened to whimpers. 'Good boy, Henry. Keep playing, go on,' I encouraged him in a hushed whisper.

My niece fully silenced and I breathed out, revelling in the peace that unfolded.

After ten or so minutes, her eyes closed and didn't open again. I held out a hand to stop Henry from playing and let out the breath that I had been holding when they stayed closed and her chest rose and fell rhythmically.

John looked incredibly relieved as he stood and strapped her in her baby seat. 'I'll go put her upstairs,' he whispered.

'Okay, Papa,' Henry whispered back.

I sat back in my chair as John left and put Henry on my lap. 'Henry, you don't mind about John and I getting married, do you?'

'Course not, Daddy. You're asposed to—'

'—  _supposed_ ,' I interjected.

'You're  _supposed_  to get married to Papa,' he rectified. 'Because you love him, and so he can  _really_ be my papa.' He yawned, and I pulled him against me so his head fit into the crook of my neck.

I smiled. I was content with that answer.

'Daddy, why did I have to play my xylophone for Clarice?'

'So she could sleep,' I replied.

'Why couldn't she sleep normally?' he asked again.

'Because that's what  _her_ daddies do to get her to sleep.'

'Why?'

I sighed inaudibly. 'Because that's what works for her.'

'What used to work for me?' he muttered, yawning once again.

'I would just have to sleep with you and tell you that I love you. It still works.' I didn't want to tell him that his mother read him bedtime stories.

'Do you still love me?'

'I will  _always_  love you, Henry. I love you so much.' I whispered as his eyes closed.

'Almost as much as you love Papa?' he mumbled, sleep almost overcoming him.

'Even more than I love your Papa.'

'Good,' he muttered, before he was taken from consciousness.

I laughed slightly, resting my head on Henry's, before I, too, closed my eyes and waited to be lifted off into the world of dreams.


End file.
